Sacred Haven of Debauchery

I want to dedicate a small rant to the walking garbage – warlocks. No, this isn't an insult, but a fact. A warlock is helpless – usually, they can't quickly kill anyone. And the one who can, dies even faster than the one who can't. All a warlock can do is annoy you while you're riding a horse. He also likes to scare passersby by dramatically opening his cloak, under which there is nothing but a hairy, unwashed, and, in the case of a warlock playing as a compost creature, even a worm-infested crotch. While people are frantically running around in terror, the warlock, pleased that he is at least making some kind of impression, tries to annoy his victim as much as possible. Since this is where the warlock's abilities end, a warlock has two goals in life: to annoy as many people as possible and to get fat, so that he can live to see the moment when everyone he has annoyed dies, and he himself dies with a smile on his face. And it is precisely for such a spectacle that I often have to dismount my horse on Alterac to explain that throwing feces at people is not good, wasting precious time.